


Second Innistrad Anthology submission

by Carliro



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Gen, Sad, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carliro/pseuds/Carliro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irina is sick. "Treatment" ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Innistrad Anthology submission

Irina coughed blood. Her lungs were already very sore, and trying to expel the almost blackened liquid was becoming increasingly painful. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, as coughing felt like having sandpaper in your windpipe. Her father gently cleaned her mouth before she was done coughing, his hands passing through the young girl's brown locks, fighting back tears of his own.

"I want some water" Irina managed to say, more tired than she was in pain.

"Rest now darling."

The man tried as best as he could to keep a straight, smiling and conforting face, but Irina knew better, and as soon as her father was out of sight, she heard him cry. The girl didn't bother to cry anymore, only shedding tears during coughing. She laid her head on the pillow, and passed out.

In her sleep, she remembered the happier times, when she could still run through the golden meadows and pick bright crimson apples from the fine trees down the stream, when she could investigate the woods with her friends and play by the clearings. But those times were long gone: for the better part of an year, werewolves and ghouls plagued the land, destroying the golden meadows and almost all of the entire village. Her mother, her cousins, her friends were now dead, either sadistically ripper to shreds or part of Gisa's entourage. Forced to move to Nephalia, the six remaining people of her village were left with a dire departing gift: tuberculosis . Even when Avacyn returned, they knew their hope was pointless.

At some point her sleep, Irina felt a bit of a chill, like myst caressing her face. She woke up, and as her eyes adjusted to the light she saw a pale man, dressed in a black coat and hat. For some reason, she couldn't seem to be able to look at his face, and something told her it was blank.

"Sorry for interrupting your sleep. I'm here to make you feel better" he said gently, with a strange, mysty voice.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Your father told me you were very sick, so I'm here to try to fix that."

"But I thought I couldn't be healed."

"But, as it turns out, you can. Your father told me about you earlier today, when you were asleep."

Irina knew something was off about that doctor, and some part of her already suspected what was going on, but there was little she could do either way.

"Can you bring me a cup of water?"

"Sure thing dear. It also makes the remedy easier to swallow."

The doctor quickly got up, in a sleak, graceful motion, and brought back a cup with almost silvery water, so fast that Irina suspected that he didn't even go to the tap. It had a pleasant, rose-like smell, almost alluring in a way. As the girl sipped, she noticed a very strange, almost citric taste, that reminded her of the fresh lemons that grew near her old house. Sips became wide gulps, and she began to feel sleepy again.

"The medicine is working, so you can now rest in peace."

Suddenly, Irina felt as if her lungs were clean, as if all the blood vanished suddenly and the sandpaper sensation was obliterated. For once in the last two months, she felt the strength to smile again.

"...thanks..." she muttered happily, before going to sleep.

"You're welcome, darling" the doctor bowed politely, and left.

He passed softly through the air, utterly nnoticed by the slumbering father. He examined the sleeping hunk, and saw him to be healthy, so he left. As he left the house, he heard him rushing to his daughter, and a howl of anguish tainted the wind.

The doctor simply shrugged.


End file.
